


The Morning After Jill

by holtzingyou



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, F/F, Reader-Insert, Sexuality Crisis, Smut, Swearing, denial that anything bad ever happened to ecto-1, slut shaming (kinda)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzingyou/pseuds/holtzingyou
Summary: You tread the fine line between questioning your sexuality and outright denying your attraction to your best friend and coworker, Dr Jillian Holtzmann. An unexpected, alcohol-fuelled night with said scientist leaves you with no choice but to confront your problems head-on like the grown woman you are. Yes, that means coming to terms with your feelings… whatever they may be.





	The Morning After Jill

**Author's Note:**

> Kicking off this blog (holtzingyou.tumblr.com) with a probably too angsty, probably too long fic. Hello, everybody. Prompts always open. Shoutout to those of you who clock the shameless SNL reference.

As a long-term cat owner you were used to odd sensations to your face being your alarm clock.  Today’s sensation felt like claws to your lip… but _blunt_ claws. You swiped at your own chin in annoyance before forcing your eyes open at a squint. It was a bobby pin. Propping yourself up on your elbow revealed, in fact, enough bobby pins scattered on the bed beside you to build a miniature model of the Eiffel Tower. They were arranged in a yellow brick road leading to a tangle of blonde curls that were partially unravelling in an attempt to escape their signature up-do.  Holtz. She rarely slept, but when she did, she did it well. Her current position was a face-down starfish, half hanging off the bed, drooling into her pillow. Your first thought was the usual wave of affection associated with seeing your best friend. Your second was panic.

This was not the first time you’d woken up next to Holtz. There’d been many a movie marathon where you’d passed out on the couch together. There’d been long nights at the firehouse where the two of you had fallen into an exhausted slump over her workbench. There’d been your multitudes of bad break-ups where you’d curled up with her and a hot chocolate, and cried yourself to sleep. This, however, was the first time you’d woken up next to her with hickeys and scratches and smudges of lipstick – _her_ lipstick – decorating your stark naked body.

You stumbled out of bed, knowing she’d be slow to do the same, and followed the breadcrumb trail of your clothes (putting them back on as you went) to the kitchen where you started to brew a coffee. You struggled with the mundane motions of retrieving your favourite mug from the cupboard, and searching the fridge for the one carton of milk that hadn’t yet expired, as your mind worked a mile a minute trying to process the fact that you had just slept with Dr Jillian Holtzmann.

You liked men. That much was clear by the substantial memoirs you could write about the amount of men you’d enjoyed the company of in the past year alone. They’d all ended badly, of course, but the point was: you’d still been into them in the first place. But, you’d be lying to yourself if you ignored the fact that you had caught yourself, at increasing intervals, wondering what it would be like to just… grab Holtz by the hair and kiss her perpetual smirk away. You’d come close too, on those nights when she’d consistently been your post break-up safe haven , to wiping away your tears, lifting your head from her shoulder and closing the gap between your mouths. Or, more subtly, trail kisses from her collar bone to her ear and observing what she made of that.  You’d never gone through with it because you’d known it would predominantly be an act of curiosity, and you didn’t want to open that box unless you were sure of your feelings.

“I gotta admit, doll, I wanted us to be sober the first time we did that.”

You nearly spilt you drink on yourself in your haste looking up at her, Jill, frazzled in appearance, but nonplussed in attitude. Her smile only wavered when she saw the look on your face.

“ _Ohhh._ ” She breathed. “Baby. Y/N. Don’t look at me like that with those gorgeous eyes.” 

With an almost painfully slow saunter she made her way to the barstool next to you, sat down, and took a swig from your coffee, never once taking her eyes off you.

“Holtz,” was all you managed to say, at barely a whisper. You were used to her compliments. They were off-handed, because she flirted with everyone. Now, things were different. Now, her calling you ‘baby’ recalled memories of her sighing that very word between your legs.

“I don’t believe for one second that I was that bad.” She raised a hand to brush your hair behind your ear and you flinched. You immediately felt like you’d kicked a puppy because in that moment you saw nothing but hurt in her eyes. For the first time since you’d known her, Holtzmann had no comment to fix the awkward silence that followed.

“Holtzy,” your voice sounded small and pathetic, “I’ve never been with a girl before. I don’t even know if… that’s what I’m into. You know I’ve been with-”

“-yeah, yeah. Every guy in New York at this point, if my calculations are correct. But look how that’s turned out. You ever think maybe there’s a reason you can’t hold down a boyfriend?”

“That’s not fair.” You were genuinely taken aback. You had never heard her say anything like that before, and you could see that she instantly regretted it. All you gathered from her reaction was that she was way more romantically into you than you originally thought.

Well, fuck.

Of course, you then did the only thing a socially awkward person could do in that situation; you stood up, knocking the barstool with your hip, and muttered “I have to go.”

“Y/N, don’t.” Holtz stood too, almost as frantically as you, as you backed towards the front door.

“It’s not… I just need to get changed before work… and stuff… I’ll see you there.”

“Let me give you a lift.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Before you could garner the implications of the conversation, you were hailing a taxi, with the TV screen in your mind forcing you to watch an instant replay of all the events that followed last night’s bust. A celebratory drink at the bar was standard after busts, but this was a particularly big bust, with particularly high stakes, and a particularly nasty set of ghosts. The intensity of drinking had a direct correlation to the amount of success you had, and this was flat out party time. Holtz was a lightweight at the best of times, so you vowed to keep an eye on her; especially after she’d almost decked a guy who’d tried to get handsy with you. Three Corona’s later her arm made a permanent resting place on the back of your chair, her knee occasionally bumping yours. It was after the second shot that her fingers started to methodically graze your thigh, drawing a pattern that worked itself higher and higher up your leg until you had to grab her hand before it invaded your panties. Not that you found yourself entirely opposed to the prospect, you just didn’t want _“remember the time Holtzmann made you come right in front of us”_ on the girls’ shortlist of banter material.

Your efforts may have been fruitless anyway, because when Holtz announced to everyone that she needed to go to the bathroom, and all but ordered you to come with her, the girls (plus Kevin) all shared a knowing look.

You didn’t realise how much the drink had gone to your own head until you found yourself stumbling enough to be grateful when Holtz grabbed your hand. Then, you struggled with the fluorescent lights in the bathroom, and the glare from the mirror, and after Holtzmann kicked everyone else out of the stalls she cupped your cheek in one hand, and your waist in the other, and _you_ kissed _her_ before she could even say anything. Her hands found their way under your skirt again and she would’ve taken you then and there if you hadn’t of pulled away and reminded her that four of your friends were waiting for you, and probably timing your absence for future reference.

Except, when the two of you got back to the table, they were getting ready to call it quits on the night. Patty chauffeured, doing rounds in the Ecto-1 until Kevin, Abby and Erin were all safely home. Ever knowing, she sensed that you were crashing at Fort Holtzmann for the night. And crash you did. You wanted to hit pause on the replay because with the following images of the two of you too engrossed in each other to turn on any lights, and her undressing you as if she was unwrapping a present, and you being so damn glad to be that present that you let her put her hands, and her mouth, and – _oh_ _god –_ her _teeth_ wherever she damn pleased, it was suddenly very hot in the back of the taxi. The internal battle between shame and arousal seemed way more intense when you had a driver chewing your ear off about his beloved daughter and every detail about her little league involvement. You practically threw the money at him, and took the stairs to your apartment two at a time, all the while thinking about how before you passed out last night, you felt three excruciatingly vivid sensations: an unfamiliar bone-deep satisfaction, sweat sticking the sheets to your skin, and Jill caressing a gentle line from your hip to your ribs and back again as she whispered sweet nothings – or, heck, sweet _somethings_ – against your neck.

You took the longest shower of your life when you got home. By the time you got out your skin was red raw and wrinkled. You knew you’d be at least an hour late to work, but you were too preoccupied to care. You threw on your comfiest, and least attractive, clothes, hoping that your appearance would deter anyone, anywhere from trying to talk to you.

But, of course, nothing could deter Patty from probing where her friends were concerned.

“I don’t know what in the heck is going on between you guys, but y’all better fix it.” Was shouted at you as soon as she saw you.

“Patty. What are you talking about?” You’d thrown on sunglasses right before you left, hoping they’d conceal any emotion on your face. You’d also bought a coffee on your way in, just because it gave off the illusion of a laid-back individual.

Patty Tolan had a superpower that allowed her to see through sunglasses and accessory coffee.

The look she gave you said she very clearly was not buying a single ounce of your bullshit. Unreasonable, you thought, considering your prices started as low as you’d give her twenty dollars.

“Holtzy hasn’t said a single damn word since she stepped through the door. She’s currently doing science way more intensely than I have ever seen her do, and you and I both know full well that sure as shit means something. She’s like… in a science coma up there. She’s doing some serious science meditation. She’s two chemical reactions away from evolving into her final form: pure science itself. What happened last night?”

“Did you guys kiss?” Erin asked, and she and Abby joined the line of defence against you. The other two looked at her with a mixture of amusement and something that might have been pity.

“Nothing happened last night- okay yeah,” you backtracked at the disbelieving looks on their faces, “ _stuff_ happened last night – that I am _not_ gonna talk about, but, I mean, there weren’t any problems last night.”  They all stared at you expectantly, and when you didn’t continue, Patty crossed her arms. “It was this morning that sucked.” You muttered.

The three of them, synchronised, pulled out chairs at what you guys considered the dining table, and sat down in various poses of intrigue.

“I swear to god, Y/N, if you tell me that last night you got so drunk you slept with Holtzy, and then rejected her this morning, I am personally banning you from any form of alcohol until you take _at least_ six corrective classes on impulse control.” Patty frowned. You couldn’t bear the look of disappointment on her face when your silence confirmed her hypothesis.

“God damn it!” Abby slapped her palm on the table so hard you were surprised she didn’t flinch. “We were all rooting for you!”

“What are you talking about?” You questioned.

Abby rolled her eyes and cupped her mouth. “Hey, Kevin! Get in here!”

“What’s crack-a-lackin’, boss?” He appeared, looking rather much like she’d interrupted something important. He’d been absorbed in filing his nails when you’d walked in, so you guessed his self-manicure wasn’t quite finished yet.

“Could you help us out by telling us the relationship status of Y/N and Holtzmann, please?” Abby probed.

Kevin sighed, and folded his arms dramatically. “Yeah. They’re married – and I’m still pissed I wasn’t invited to the wedding. I would’ve made a superb flower girl. I’m an expert at flower arrangement, you know? Is that it? Can I go?”

“Yeah, dismissed, Kev-o.” Abby smirked. When he was gone she looked at you. “You see?”

“No, what?”

“He thought you were married!” Her tone was exasperated.

“He also thinks Hide-and-Seek is a sport.” You deadpanned.

“Technically,” Erin piped up, “it could be. He’s not as dumb as he seems.” She nodded, matter of fact, and Abby scoffed.

“No, he is as dumb as he seems, but he has great intuition. Sometimes.”

“The point is -” Patty raised her voice above the debate that was about to break out between Abby and Erin. “- everyone here has sensed the romantic tension between you and Holtzy since the first day you got here.”

“Everyone except you.” Abby pointed at you in a way that made you feel like you were being scolded by a teacher.

“And we’ve all watched you go through a string of asshole boyfriends, wondering when you were gonna finally woman-up and address your feelings for Holtz. We thought last night was it. Evidently, she did too.” Patty continued.

“With all due respect, maybe everyone should just stay out of my business.” You sighed, and started to head towards your office.

As you turned to leave, Patty had the final, deep-cutting word.

“Girl, I love you like a sister, but I think you’re being selfish and childish right now. Please wake up, or it’s gonna get real awkward in here. For all of us.”


End file.
